Fractured Reality
by confusedsarcasm
Summary: A dream I had last night. Can't really summarize. Huddy undertones I suppose. Appearences by House Wilson and Cuddy. Please R&R! Complete! Plus deleted scenes and commentary!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I just _had_ to write this. This is all from a dream I had last night. I wrote this all immediately as I woke up so that I would not forget as much, but obviously this isn't going to flow as smoothly as a regular fic and you'll have to use your imaginations more to piece together what went one.  
Because it was a dream, it may seem to be OOC at times, but please just bear with me. I thought it was an interesting dream and I'd like to share it with you. Oh, and my brother woke me up from his loud talking on the phone, so I tried to end the story when I woke up as best as I could.  
Please read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: House, M.D. does not belong to me; I am not making any money from this.

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House stood alone looking as horrible as ever. His hair was disheveled and muddy. His clothes were wet, wrinkled, and tattered. The entire right side of his face was a deep purple color as if paint had been thrown up against him. His cane was no longer with him. It must have been lost in the devastation of the accident. Instead in his right hand he clutched loosely onto a small stack of money.

To his left Wilson stood facing away from House with his hands on his hips looking towards the ground. He was in an equally unkempt state; the only difference was he bore no facial injuries. He spun around slowly and met House eye to eye. They were the only two left.

That fact alone provided Wilson with enough energy to instigate a verbal war with his only remaining companion. "We have nothing left," he spat out pointedly.

When House didn't respond he continued, pointing toward the wad of cash in House's shaking hand. "Is that all you need?" He took a step toward House and House stepped back, giving a glance at the money in his hand.

House spoke. "All you need is money—Cuddy had money to buy necessities, but I can buy things...I can buy happiness."

Wilson's anger boiled within his veins. "We don't know where Cuddy is anymore!"

Cuddy had disappeared days ago, not leaving a trail or even a shred of evidence to locate her.

"We'll never be happy again!" The moment the truthful words escaped Wilson's dried lips a new emotion flooded the two men, causing House to turn from Wilson.

With the strongest, most predominant limp Wilson had ever seen, House made his way towards a set of cement stairs. He climbed them with a difficulty that he refused to let show, grasping the mold covered sides for leverage.

Wilson followed him silently.

House now peered over the edge of a bridge like structure. There were protective barriers at least five feet high all around with the exception of one area of the wall. It appeared as if this section of the wall had been blasted away by a small cannon.

House placed his hands high up on either edge of the rough stone of the broken wall and gazed down toward the ground.

In the fading sunlight House's figure looked almost looked like the portrait of the Vitruvian Man, only with four limbs and instead of displaying symmetry and perfection he radiated imperfection and sorrow. House's right leg shook spastically as he turned to look back at Wilson.

The moment their eyes connected Wilson knew. This was for real. House had decided to end his life; Wilson understood, but somewhere in the back of his mind his optimism still battled for its recently stifled voice to be heard. House looked forward again and closed his eyes.

Wilson could see House's right leg visibly cease its shaking. Before he could process another thought Wilson shot forward on his feet as fast as he could and tackled House to the ground. House looked up at Wilson with anger flushed over his bruised and infected face and forcefully pushed Wilson off of him. Wilson's anger overtook him again and he reached over to the money still clutched in House's right hand. He grabbed a hold of it and stood upright, running over to the edge and tossed the money down the same path House nearly ended his last moments of earth on.

Looking back at House on the dirt riddled stone floor Wilson knew he had tossed the last of his friend's security blankets far away. He was now just as naked as he was. Two men with nothing to live for, yet somehow staying alive.

House rose to his feet quickly, his thigh protesting and causing him to stumble under his weight, but he regained his footing and lunged toward Wilson.

Wilson dodged him easily and ran back down the stairs they had not long ago ascended. House followed, rage occupying the emptiness of his once radiant blue eyes.

As Wilson ran threw the unfamiliar town his thoughts returned to Cuddy. She was always the only one who could save House from himself. Wilson knew even if House didn't that if there was even the smallest possibility of Cuddy still being alive that there was the same fraction of hope on House's behalf.

He remembered suddenly that Cuddy had the same amount of money the day she disappeared that House had clutched in his hand only moments ago. Wilson doubted that she could have found happiness, but prayed silently that she had enough to stay alive.

Guided only by his intuition Wilson sprinted across an abandoned street and into an old building. He had worked too hard throughout his life to let things end this way.

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Wilson stopped in front of a thin wooden door in the hallway of what appeared to be one of the oldest and filthiest apartment buildings of this unknown town. He knocked on the door twice and waited as the resonating knocks combated the loudness of his own still beating heart.

The door opened to reveal a shirtless Indian man. Wilson wasn't sure what to think; his heart dropped but he wasn't ready to give up yet—he had nothing to loose anyway. He spoke up unsurely. "Is Cu-- ...?"

The man left the door open and retreated back into his home, almost as if he were completely ignoring Wilson.

Taking that as an invite, Wilson used his left hand to push the door open further and step inside. To his right were three beds all lined up against a wall. There were no headboards for any of them and each was white and covered only by a thin sheet and one under stuffed pillow.

Wilson watched as the man who had answered the door jumped into his bed and continued to watch television with two other men clad only in their underwear residing in their own separate beds. The television was small and rested on top of a series of cinder blocks. Wilson noticed that they were watching European futbol on the colorless set.

Wilson turned to his left and walked slowly down an empty hallway. This apartment was small and plain; dirty and a great deal unsettling. He stopped at the end of the hallway. To his right was an empty room; to his left was a lone door.

Hoping that Cuddy was behind the door and at the same time hoping with the same degree that she wasn't, Wilson placed his hand on the knob and rotated it. What he saw shocked him.

There Cuddy stood in the middle of the small bathroom naked and emotionless. She didn't turn to look at him and for some reason Wilson was glad. He didn't want to see through her eyes and he didn't want her to see through his either. Although it was a bathroom Wilson had the strong suspicion that she wasn't naked from a shower or about to take one. It was the same suspicion that guided him to her in the first place.

Whatever shred of sanity that was holding him together was clipped at this sight. Cuddy finally turned to look at him, but before he could make eye contact he released the door handle and left.

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Wilson walked briskly down a hallway he had not remembered walking through on his way in as he left. It was a Victorian styled hallway with gold ceilings decorated by elaborate famous paintings from all around the world. Arched doorways and windows gave the room an open feeling and allowed light to flood in despite the time of day or absence of the sun. From the windows the walls around him were tinted orange as if the sunset from outside resided more powerfully in this one room.

A familiar yet long forgotten voice stopped him in his tracks, causing him to notice the plush red carpet beneath his feet.

It had been so long since he had felt any kind of comfort. It wasn't even the atmosphere of the room that was controlling him and relaxing his body, but the warmth of the voice calling out to him. It sent a warming feeling down his body, but the feeling didn't come without a price, for his muscles tensed as he turned to be greeted with the sight of the only hope he knew existed.

From what he had experienced moments ago, he wondered how he could look to her for hope when it seemed as though she had nothing left that was worth anything more than what he possessed himself.

Standing proudly despite the new life she had found for herself Wilson doubted whether or not he had hallucinated what he had seen or not. The lowering sunset cast the same orange glow it had cast over House at the bridge. House had appeared hopeless, but Cuddy...

Suddenly remembering House, Wilson took a few large deliberate steps toward Cuddy. "You need to help House!" Wilson pleaded.

Cuddy shook her head solemnly, "I can't do that..."

Wilson grabbed Cuddy firmly by the shoulders and dug his fingers unconsciously into her bright red jacket. There was many a time in their past when each of them would need to save House. Most of the time it was always her, but either way they had saved House from death, but this time was different. This was for real. One last chance to save him once and for all.

With all the anger, hope, desperation and passion in his voice, Wilson pleaded to Cuddy one more time, looking her dead in the eyes. "Help him or he dies!"

Before Cuddy could respond or Wilson could add on to his statement, Wilson caught sight of House at the opening of the large arched doorway. The sunset colored his blue eyes a dangerous red somehow and Wilson turned away from Cuddy, again running from House without another word.

House's limp had prevented him from following Wilson, but he had finally caught up with him. His anger ran so deeply that House had failed to even notice Cuddy. He again followed Wilson like a predator, but Cuddy stepped in front of him and grasped his shoulders much in the same way Wilson had apprehended her. She pushed him backward when he did not stop moving and pushed him straight into a wall.

House was shook from his daze as he met Cuddy in the eye. His leg once again shook violently, but stopped, the motion switching to his jaw as it quivered under Cuddy's gaze. His surprise rivaled his anger, but his hopelessness overtook all other emotions until he felt nothing from the cool blue gaze of Cuddy's eyes.

House reversed Cuddy's hold on him and turned them around so that House was pinning Cuddy to the wall. House was for once in his lifetime at a loss for words and felt strangulated even in the openness of the large room. Releasing Cuddy from his trembling hands, he turned away from her and began walking in the opposite direction Wilson had run off.

Cuddy's heart dropped for House as she followed him into a new room.

She found House sitting on a lone couch in a large rotunda. The ceiling was high and dome shaped; the room was colored a deep purple, causing Cuddy to not only become enveloped in the somber mood of the room, but to notice the color of House's face. She knew it was bad when she left, but she had no idea of what transpired once she was gone. She had thought she was doing everyone a favor by leaving, but apparently not.

She sat down on the navy blue couch beside House and placed her hand on House's trembling one. Is this what was to become of them? She had never witnessed such destruction before, but what was most damaging to her soul was that somewhere along the way House had lost his.

A tear slid down Cuddy's cheek for the both of them. If this was life now, House had the right idea in ending the pain and suffering, but much like Wilson, there was a place in her mind that believed this wasn't the end.

To remain living was a fate worse than death itself, but they were already dead inside, so maybe...just maybe there was a chance things would only get better.

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FIN

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A/N: Yes, that's the end. Thank you for reading. I've added some deleted scenes and commentary. Just go to the next chapter to read it.


	2. Chapter 2

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Deleted Scenes

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The highway was more crowded than rush hour in New York City. The car was moving, but it felt as if all the luggage in the back was weighing the car down causing it to move much slower.

"Maybe we should toss some of the bags." A voice spoke up from behind House's head and he turned to look, a smirk gracing his cunning features.

"You think then we would get better gas mileage?"

"Uh, no, but it would help me to breathe a little easier."

"If you can talk, you have plenty of air." House turned his head in his seat to look out the right side of the window. It was dark, but the street lights illuminated the streets clearly enough to not even need the use of headlights. House turned his head to the left to see past Wilson out of the driver's side window.

The world seemed to slow down as he watched Cuddy jogging down the crowded city along a long sidewalk. She was wearing a tight white tank top and jogging pants with her MP3 player attached to her arm and headphones in her ears.

House narrowed his eyes as he watched her jog. What was she doing?

Suddenly the pace of the world around him sped up again as Cuddy unexpectedly took a sharp right turn into the street. She ran across the street at light speed as if she did this kind of thing every day as cars blared their horns at her. She didn't seem to notice.

House marveled at her ability to easily run across at least four lengths of paved convoluted streets with cars driving at least sixty miles per hour in every direction. He turned his head to the right again and watched as she continued to run in the opposite direction.

Time slowed again as she turned her head to look him in the eyes and kept running.

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Wilson stopped running from House and left him with Cuddy as he explored the streets around him. So many unanswered questions invaded his mind. Where were they? How did they get here? ...Would life ever be the same again?

"Hey, what's up?" A stranger greeted Wilson and they shook hands. "I don't...I don't know..." Truthfully Wilson's confusion mounted an all time high as the scene around him changed suddenly like someone had turned a page in a picture book.

The street was now paved in cobblestone and he had the feeling he had regressed a couple of decades backward. The stranger in front of him was wearing a top hat and black coat which reached down to his calves. A fluffy white dress shirt popped against the darkness of the coat and Wilson was now seeing things in black and white.

He spoke unsurely, "I think...I just read a really good fan-fic and I need to review it, but...I don't know how."

The stranger looked at Wilson curiously with a raised eye-brow.

Wilson continued, "I don't even know how I know it was a fan-fic because it actually happened, but now...I think it was real, but maybe it wasn't..."

The stranger took the bait, "So how can you review something that was real...and fake at the same time...and you don't even know anything about it?"

Wilson looked behind both of his shoulders and back, then rubbed his face with one of his hands. "I don't know..."

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Commentary

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Okay, this must have been confusing so I'll try to enlighten you to some points of this fic (or actually dream).

Starting with the deleted scenes, I did not add them to the actual story because I didn't think they would fit as well. They were also a little bit more jaded and a little less clear in my memory as the other scenes.

The first deleted scene: I believe the voice from the back of the car was one of House's ducklings. Possibly the older ones like maybe Chase or Cameron.

The driver of the car, Wilson, was actually myself, but I wasn't going to write that. I dreamt it from a first person point of view, so I assume it was me.

I don't know the significance of Cuddy's running or where they were going...

The second deleted scene: No I didn't write that to get more reviews, I actually was thinking while I was dreaming that I needed to write this as a fan-fic, but as I was dreaming I was thinking I was reading a fan-fic...it's complicated. Lol, in that scene Wilson was also me again.

Actual story (first chapter): All the events preceding the actual story were extremely unclear after I woke up. I think they were on a plane of some sort, maybe even a space craft. The seats were unsafe; no seat belts; they were made of plastic and really close together. I have a brief memory of House and Cuddy sitting next to each other and that's all.

**The setting**: Okay, at first I assume they were in some part of Europe, just because of the stone and the ...oldness of it all. Plus the one hallway where House and Cuddy were reunited was very European with the extravagantness of the ceilings. This is again confirmed in the apartment building where the men were watching European futbol, (or soccer).

**The money**: I'm not sure why that was so important to House. I don't know why he was about to kill himself and then all of a sudden he was angry about Wilson getting rid of the money when he wasn't going to need it anyway if he was about to kill himself.

**Cuddy in the apartment building**: Wow, that is definitely not something I would just make up. It seemed kind of random to me, but whatever. I'm going to leave you to think about what she was doing there. I wouldn't ever think she would do anything like that, but it was just a dream people.

**Dialogue**: My memory is definitely not good enough to remember the exact words each person said, but the concept is the same.

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Still Confused?

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Any questions, comments, or anything just drop it in a review and I'll get back to you.

Please review, I'd like to hear what you guys are thinking and get your take on all of this. Tell me how you interpreted this and what you think happened, I'd love to hear it.

I appreciate it, thanks guys! And thanks for reading!


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